The painting
by Dellinah
Summary: Dipper had long forgotten what fear was. Being 18 and spending most of his summer vacation with his great uncle Ford as they traveled the world in search for the most gruesome, weirdest, and what most people would consider scary; he had gotten used to controlling his primitive instincts such as fear. So why did that room made him so uneasy?


**Short one shot. First attempt at being "scary". Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Dipper had long forgotten what fear was.

Being 18 and spending most of his summer vacation with his great uncle Ford as they traveled the world in search for the most gruesome, weirdest, and what most people would consider scary; he had gotten used to controlling his primitive instincts such as fear.

He wouldn't feel his knees shaking, his teeth never chattered; no matter what kind of monster he faced, he'd face it with fierce determination and cold blood. Their dead-looking, death-hunger eyes and fangs did nothing to Dipper's will.

So, it puzzled him why that simple room sent shivers down his spine.

Dipper was used to poor installations; being a traveler sometimes meant having to make-do with what was within his reach. He was no stranger to sleeping on the cold floor of a van or to the annoying sound of broken pipers interrupting his slumber and waking him up every few hours whenever they leaked a drop that would be unfortunate enough to fall on his face.

The room he found himself in wasn't even the worst he had ever been in, in all honesty. If anything, it was dusty and looked like it could use some repairing, but that's about it. It was of a good size, with a nice bed and a structure good enough to keep the cold night breeze out.

Still, he couldn't help the fear that crept onto him as he tried to fall asleep. Rolling over and over, the old forgotten feeling of being a little boy scared of monsters under his bed slowly began sprouting again in the very back of his mind.

Dipper opened his tired eyes to check what time it was, and cursed under his breath when the clock showed him it was almost 3am. He was tired from walking around all day and now he barely had four hours to rest before another tiring day began.

The boy rolled over again, slightly startled at the high pitched sound the bed made when he moved. His heart began racing despite he trying convince himself that he was not scared – what was there to fear, after all?

He looked around the room, hoping his exhaustion would catch up soon and lead him to sleep at once. His eyes fell upon the window and he admired the moon outside, whose light was the only source of light he had in that dark room. Silhouettes danced along the walls as the tree branches outside moved up and down in front of the moon, following the wind as it whistled a soft melody.

A red glimpse caught Dipper's eyes and he moved his head to the right, where his gaze was caught by a weird painting he hadn't noticed before. He squinted and tried to sort the details of it, but due to the dim light available, all he could see was the picture of a man with red eyes – that seemed weirdly brighter than the rest of the painting. Not only that, the background behind him seemed uncannily real.

Dipper shook his head when he noticed his heart was racing, his mouth was dry, his body hair was up. He was scared.

Knowing better than to dismiss the signs his body gave him, Dipper pushed the blanket aside and sat up on the bed, propping himself up in his hands.

It all became a blur when a whisper, similar to that of the wind, got to Dipper's ears. A soothing, calm and luring voice seemed to bewitch him and shut off each and every one of his senses. He tried to understand what it said, but his train of thought was now long gone as he fell back onto the bed and fell asleep.

* * *

Dipper woke up when Ford came into his room and told him it was time to go. There were bags under his eyes, certainly a consequence of the sleepless night before. Still half asleep and focused on the task of grabbing his belongings so that they could leave, the events of previous hours were far from Dipper's mind.

It wasn't until he lay his hand over the door handle that his body hair suddenly got up and a shiver went down his spine. The night before came into mind when he felt as if a pair of eyes was burning holes in the back of his neck.

With a gasp and quickly, Dipper jumped around to where the painting was – suddenly realizing he had fallen asleep before he could check it properly.

However, rather than finding answers, Dipper was left wide-eyed and breathless when his eyes fell upon his target. The red-eyed man had disappeared, the frame depicted nothing but the background now.

And then Dipper noticed it wasn't a painting he had been observing the past night.

It was a window.


End file.
